


Gentle, Careful

by monsterhugger



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mind Reading, Scars, Touch Averse!Jon, oh and Martin is trans obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterhugger/pseuds/monsterhugger
Summary: Martin wants Jon to be comfortable. Jon is trying.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 172





	Gentle, Careful

Martin had finally convinced Jon to wear short sleeves. He had resisted it at first, sweating through shirts as the temperatures climbed into the high twenties. The climate control in the cabin wasn’t exactly great, so the choice was short sleeves or drowning in your own sweat. After much prodding from Martin, Jon had finally admitted short sleeves were preferable.

Unlike Jon, Martin had taken to short sleeves almost immediately. Followed by no sleeves, followed by no shirt at all. Jon had to admit it was a lovely sight, but it did make him feel even more awkward as he sat in front of the little floor fan, sweating through his clothes.

“You look dreadful,” Martin had said, pushing Jon’s sweat-drenched hair out of his eyes.

“I’m fine, Martin,” Jon had grumbled.

“I mean, I get it, you’re self-conscious, but you’re going to give yourself heat stroke like this.”

“I don’t think that’s how heat stroke works. And besides, I didn’t bring any.” This was true. Jon barely owned any short-sleeved shirts anyway, it had always been unsettlingly chilly in the Archive, and he didn’t think to grab the two he owned before retreating to the cabin with Martin.

“You can wear one of mine,” Martin offered.

“I can?”

“Of course.”

And so Jon had put on Martin’s shirt. It hung off his small frame like a dress, the sleeves still falling almost to his elbows, but it was certainly more comfortable. He sat on the couch with a glass of iced tea-he was more of a coffee person, but Martin insisted he try it and he had to admit, it was alright. Martin sat next to him, as close as he could be without actually touching Jon. There was more than enough room on the couch for both of them, but Martin was getting quite clingy the more time they spent in the cabin. Jon figured it was just him recovering from his brush with the Lonely, so he encouraged it, letting Martin play with his hair and sit up close to him on the couch and sleep curled up against him.

Jon knew how much Martin loved him. He _knew_ Martin wanted to touch him, to be touched by him, to feel the comfort of his contact. He couldn’t help but know it. But Martin didn’t ask for anything, he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so Jon tried to ignore it when he thought about it.

“Where’s this from?”

Jon looked over. Martin was pointing at his shoulder, where the collar of his oversized shirt hung off him slightly. Jon reached up and touched his shoulder, trying instinctively to cover himself. There was a raised line there, standing out amongst the various round scars that covered his whole body.

“Oh, that’s… that’s where Melanie stabbed me,” Jon replied.

Martin looked up at him sadly, concerned and clearly asking for something. Jon carefully moved his hand away from the scar. Martin’s hand hovered over his shoulder.

“You can touch,” Jon said. He didn’t really know if he was okay with that, but he supposed he’d find out. He knew Martin would be gentle, but he also knew how sensitive he could be.

Martin traced his finger back and forth over the pale line, keeping his touch as light as possible. Jon shivered, but he didn’t tell Martin to stop. He tried to relax, he told himself he was safe and that Martin wasn’t hurting him. It took him a few moments to realize he was squeezing his eyes shut. Martin pulled his hand away, and Jon opened his eyes.

“Sorry,” Martin said. “You looked uncomfortable.”

Jon pulled on the shirt collar, adjusting it so it covered the scar.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Just not… used to that, I suppose.”

“Does it hurt?”

“The scar? It itches sometimes. They all do.” Jon turned his arm over, looking at the little dots that covered it. Just thinking about them made them itch sometimes, imagining the horrid worms crawling inside him. Those scars were the most plentiful, and the most uncomfortable, though he definitely had others. Martin looked over the worm scars too.

“You’ve got those all over, then?”

Jon nodded softly.

“Mhm. I don’t know how they got under my clothes, but…”

“God,” Martin whispered. “Sorry for bringing it up.”

“It’s alright,” Jon replied. “I have to look at them all the time anyway. It’s a hard thing to forget about.”

“Is that why you don’t wear short sleeves? You don’t want to see them?”

“I mean, I’ll see them anyway. But I suppose it’s nice to know they’re not so obvious.”

“God, I feel so bad for making you wear short sleeves now,” Martin said. “I mean, if I had scars like that, of course I’d feel self conscious.”

“You don’t seem all that troubled about your own scars,” Jon argued. He gently rested his hand on Martin’s chest, his fingertips lightly brushing the pink lines that crossed his chest.

“Well, I’m sure I’d be a lot more troubled by them if they were from a monster,” Martin replied. He placed his hand over Jon’s, holding it against his chest. Jon didn’t mind this as much. It was his good hand anyway, he figured he might feel different if it was the burned one. Martin’s eyelashes fluttered as Jon traced his finger over the scars. He’d been waiting for Jon to touch him, he’d figured it would be a natural consequence of walking around with no shirt on for several days, and it turned out he was right. Jon had never been one for physical affection, but just resting his hand on Martin’s chest, running his fingers over him, making him feel beautiful, it was so satisfying. There was a rhythm to it, moving his hand over Martin’s skin just softly enough to make him melt. Jon wanted to feel what Martin felt, but the thought of someone touching him like that made his skin crawl. Instead, he focused his gaze into Martin’s head, drinking in his quiet excitement.

Martin kept one hand over Jon’s hand, and his other hand in his lap. He was fighting the urge to put his arm around Jon, to pull him closer until his head rested against his chest. Just the gentle touches of Jon’s hand were enough to make his heart race, but he wanted more. He’d gone without physical affection as long as Jon had, but whereas Jon had developed a distaste for it Martin had developed a need for it.

“Can I sit on your lap?” Jon asked. That felt safe enough-Martin would surely like it, but there wouldn’t be any actual skin-on-skin contact, and Jon could let his mind wander and forget just where he was sitting.

Martin nodded eagerly. He placed a hand on Jon’s arm to guide him, but Jon shook it off. He positioned himself on Martin’s thighs, and was surprised by how comfortable it was. His eyes were almost level with Martin’s now, and Martin’s eyes were wide.

“You’re really okay with this?” Martin asked.

“Oh, this is perfectly fine,” Jon replied. “It’s nice to finally be at eye level with you.”

Martin smiled, straightening his back.

“I’m still taller,” he said smugly.

“Don’t rub it in. If you call me short again I’m moving.”

“It’s cute though!” Martin said. “You’re so cute and small. My shirt’s so big on you.”

“I’m serious,” Jon said, smiling and leaning off Martin’s lap.

“I didn’t call you short,” Martin retorted.

“No, I suppose you didn’t.”

Jon placed his hand on Martin’s shoulder, caressing him gently. He moved his hand around, testing the waters, figuring out what Martin liked. Every new position sent Martin’s brain into a frenzy, a chorus of “yes” and “more” echoing in his head. Jon eventually moved his hand to the back of Martin’s neck, playing with his hair. Martin whimpered, grabbing Jon’s shoulder and pulling him closer.

“Hey,” Jon snapped, reaching up with his free hand to grab Martin’s wrist. Martin went bright red.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m really sorry, Jon, I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” Jon replied, his heart no longer pounding in his chest. “Just be more careful.”

“Is there anywhere I can put my hands?”

“Not on me.”

Martin nodded sadly, planting his hands on the couch. Jon began stroking his hair again, and Martin quickly felt better. Jon felt better too, the motion was calming and Martin’s hair was very soft.

Slowly, cautiously, Jon leaned in closer to Martin. Martin didn’t seem to consciously realize Jon was closer to him, but judging by how much his heart was racing he could feel it. Jon smiled, took a deep breath and planted a quick kiss on Martin’s cheek. Martin let out a soft gasp, reaching his hand up to touch the spot Jon had kissed.

“You okay?” Jon asked. He knew Martin was more than fine, but it felt right to ask.

“Y-yeah,” Martin replied. “Just a little surprised.”

Jon nodded, softly caressing Martin’s cheek.

“Can I… can I kiss you?”

Jon thought about it. He could hardly remember the last time someone had kissed him, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t liked it. Though maybe it was just that he didn’t like the person. Maybe it would be okay if Martin kissed him.

“Alright. Just a quick one, on the cheek.”

Martin smiled brightly, and Jon turned his cheek towards him. He could hear Martin’s short, quick breaths, but the kiss didn’t come.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked.

“I’m nervous!” Martin replied. “I mean, I want to, I just don’t want to… hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me. It’s okay.”

Martin nodded, quickly leaning into Jon and kissing his cheek, right over a patch of worm scars. It felt… okay. Surprisingly okay, in fact. Jon might’ve even liked it. He touched his cheek. It had that unsettling texture that came from scars, and he wondered if it had been all that pleasant to kiss.

“Okay?” Martin asked. He was sitting on his hands again.

“Yes, Martin,” Jon replied. “It was wonderful.”

“Kind of makes me wish you weren’t the only one with mind-reading powers,” Martin said. “I’d kind of like to know what you like, you know? What you need.”

“Now that you say that, I don’t even think I know that about myself half the time,” Jon said. “I’ve been told it makes me a very difficult boyfriend.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Martin said, smiling sweetly. “You’re a wonderful boyfriend.”

Jon looked over at the wall.

“Jon, look at me,” Martin whined.

Jon reluctantly turned back.

“You’re wonderful, okay? You really are.”

“Alright, Martin,” Jon sighed. “Whatever you say.”

“You’ll believe me eventually,” Martin said. “By the time we get out of this cabin, you’ll know just how absolutely lovely you are.”

“For all you know, that could be never.”

“Fine. Then I get to look at your cute little face every morning. I think I can live with that.”

Jon smiled.

“Martin, can I see your hands?”

Martin lifted his hands towards Jon, looking at him cautiously. Jon gently took Martin’s hands in his own. He could feel Martin staring at the expanse of scars on his arms, and he didn’t mind. Every thought in Martin’s head was dripping with affection. He loved every inch of Jon.

Martin squeezed Jon’s good hand, running his thumb over the discoloured spots on his other hand. Jon squeezed both his hands in return.

“That doesn’t hurt?” Martin asked, tapping his thumb against Jon’s burned hand.

“No. It’s an old scar.”

“Not that old.”

“Old enough not to hurt. Just feels a little off, that’s all.”

“Can I kiss it?”

Jon didn’t have to think as hard about it that time.

“Of course.”

Martin lifted Jon’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Jon’s heart raced, and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He wanted it to be good.

“I love you, Jon,” Martin whispered.

“I know,” Jon replied. “Er-I love you too.”


End file.
